Island Odyssey
by LadyTenebrion
Summary: Mutual interests turn out to be mutual issues!
1. Chapter One

:: CHAPTER ONE ::

Buffy knew it now; Angel bad. She'd have to kill him, and, as much as she didn't believe herself, she knew she would. She leaned back against one of the gravestones and looked up at the stars.

The one guy she'd ever really trusted turned psycho-vamp on her the second it got serious. She'd heard of bad break-ups.

"Slayer," growled a dark voice. She turned to look at the peroxide-blonde vampire who stood in front of her, but other than that did not move; the stake was already in her hand. "I need a word."

"Oh, okay then." She sighed, dragging herself up off the grassy floor. "Let's go, blondie." She dusted herself off and raised the stake, standing ready to fight.

He frowned and tilted her head, making her feel out of the loop of some huge joke. "Look, I'm not here to kill you." She snorted.

"Like you could." He narrowed his eyes and glared at her. She shrugged and lowered the stake, standing up straight. "Okay, what?"

"I think we can help each other out." He said. She folded her arms and watched him.

"Exactly how do you think you can help me, or I would _want_ to help you?" She rolled her eyes as he began to speak.

"Recently, Dru's been--"

"What do I care for her?" She asked, scowling, hands on hips. "Now, can we get to the part where I kick your ass?"

"What about Angel?" He growled back, vomiting internally at the name. "You still love him, right?"

She shifted feet, uncomfortably. "Just for your information, no I don't."

His brow lifted momentarily before shooting them back down at the look on her face. "Look, the way I see it is this; you need Angel and I need Dru, right? Even if it's just to kill them." She didn't respond. "We can help each other out. I don't kill you, and you don't kill me." He watched her. He could almost see the cogs turning in her brain. "So, what do you think, Slayer?"

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	2. Chapter Two

:: CHAPTER TWO ::

She couldn't believe what she was doing. It went against every bone in her body. Could she trust him? He was a vampire after all. And he had no fashion sense. He was late now; ten minutes. Surely that was a problem.

She should have just dusted him in the very beginning. That way, she wouldn't have to be crouching behind a trashcan that smelt of everything but flowers, and she wouldn't have to have lied to Kendra. Okay, so the last part she didn't mind quite so much. Since the beginning, the other slayer had looked down her nose at her. It shouldn't have mattered so much. In fact, it didn't matter so much. At all, in fact.

So what if she got on great with her friends? So what if she had studied more? So what if she had more tame-able hair?

Oh, just to see the look on everyone's face when she comes back having dusted Angelus as well as Spike and Dru! She smiled to herself.

Now, if Spike would just get a move on!

Spike emerged from the bushes, his leather duster billowing behind him in the wind. For a second there he almost looked impressive.

_Breath, Buffy, breath_! She'd been outside for too long. She smell of the trashcan was getting to her; fumes and all that.

He looked angry. Damnit, she was angry too. She stood up and glared at him, hands on hips.

"Just what the hell is going on?" She could stake him any time she wanted to.

"Your bastard ex is messin' with Dru's mind. They wont go anywhere they do want to go." He growled, lowly.

"How about you make them want to go there, then?"

"How about you stop pretending the world revolves around you and--"

"How about I stake you here and now and test out that theory?" She wasn't sure what she just said made sense, but the overall message must have gotten through because he immediately stilled and stopped talking. For now, he was glaring at her. "Look, I thought we had a deal. You bring Angel here, and I stake him. What was wrong with that?" Just saying his name made her wince. Maybe she wasn't as ready as she had led everyone to believe.

"What?" He asked, sardonically. "You mean besides the part where I actually make him shift his bloody great arse?" He pulled a Marlboro and held it between his lips as he flipped back the head of his silver lighter and lit the tip. He took a puff before continuing. "They're going out."

"What?" She cocked her head up; up till that point she'd been watching what he'd done with his lips. Ah, she was tired. That was all.

"Tomorrow night they're going out feeding."

"Why aren't you going with them?" She asked, cautiously; if this was a plan to get her, she wanted him on the receiving end as well.

"They think I can't walk…put me in a wheelchair…loads of bloody stairs," he mumbled between puffs, "bottom line is I have to wait till they've been gone a while before I can leave. Enough questioning, Slayer? Or have you got a few more stuffed up that little blouse of yours?" Instinctively she moved to cross her arms over her chest and glared at him. He scoffed. "Oh please, as if I'd want to see what you've got." He rolled his eyes.

Her jaw dropped open. "Back to the subject, _please_." She ground out in anger, her eyes bulging and searching the ground.

"Right, like getting your puff of a boyfriend away from my Dru." He ground out.

"He's not my boyfriend." She said, angrily. "And, with any luck, soon he'll just be a little pile of dust on the floor. As will you." She added. He turned to glare at her.

"Hey, I thought the deal was that--"

"The deal was you help me get Angelus."

"Yeah, but not get bloody killed in the meanwhile." He flicked his cigarette against the wall. Some of the ash sparked then fizzled out. "This was a stupid idea," he said, shaking his head.

"Yes, it was." She said, emphasising each word, hands firmly clasped on her hips.

"I should be eating you, not bloody talking." He morphed.

"Oh, is this the part where I scream?" she asked, sarcastically.

Before either of them had a chance to lunge, something hard hit them both, knocking them out fully. They fell to the ground instantaneously.

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	3. Chapter Three

:: CHAPTER THREE ::

Buffy didn't want to open her eyes; her head was throbbing too much. She was faced-down lying on something hard and something was pressing into her back. Suddenly, the thing she was lying on shifted. Buffy opened her eyes and looked down. Spike looked back up.

Immediately, they both shot back away from each other. They didn't get far. They looked around each other. They were in a wooden box, large enough only to fit them.

Buffy spread her arms either side of him and pressed away as much as she could.

"What the hell is going on?" She screeched.

"You think I know?" He asked, angrily. Something was pressing into his back. Her knee was resting between his legs and he could feel every nuance of her body soft against him. His body's reacting to her was enough cause to panic, never mind the fact that he was trapped in a box somewhere with a splitting headache.

They heard voices. Instinctively, Buffy lowered herself back towards him, not helping him with the whole ignoring his body thing. God, he hated her. Any minute know, if her neck just got a little bit closer, he'd bite.

Buffy stilled her breathing and listened.

"They're not speaking English." She whispered against his neck, her warm breath rising against him. He scowled at his own reaction. "What language is that?"

"How should I know?" He spat back.

"Um, let me think," she said, sarcastically, "because you've been around about a gazillion more years than me."

"So?" He growled. He could feel the blood rushing through her. He could hear it thumping in her veins against her skin, begging to be tasted.

"So, you should have learnt something in that time." She whispered back, frustrated, her arms flattened to his sides. She gripped onto the sides of his shirt for emphasis.

"Like what?" He wasn't thinking straight. God, he was an ass! Get some control, damnit!

"Like what language this is!" She squealed, pressing her fists against him. They listened in silence for a while as the voices faded away. "I think they're gone."

"No shit, Sherlock." He growled. She didn't move back. She stayed there, pressed against him.

"I can't move." She whispered. He didn't say anything. She began to wriggle against him. "Seriously, I can't move." She said, a little more desperately than before.

"What?" He asked, his needless breath jagged.

"There's something in my back. It wont move." He frowned. "If I turn my head, you see what it is." She ordered.

"Who says I wont bite you?" He whispered in a low growl.

"My knife right here, says." She tapped the front of his jeans. "I assume vampires still want whatever worthless excuse for a gender is down here."

"I know you want it." She froze. "With Angel. Gay ponce, about yay high." He said, banging his hand against the wood at his head.

"Just check the thing, Spike." She growled back. For some reason it sounded more like a purr in her throat as the words caught in a whisper. She tilted to one side.

The blood was pumping in her neck. Spike's eyes flittered as he heard her pulse.

"What's there?" She spat angrily. His eyes shot open as he tilted his head to look.

"M-Metal rod." He cleared his throat, it was suddenly croaky.

"Can you move it?" She asked, genuinely.

He reached his hands around her and tried to push the rod back. "Won't budge." He grunted. She wriggled in his arms.

"How 'bout now?" She whispered, flattening herself closer against him, one of her legs sliding between his.

He blinked and tried to concentrate before having another go. "No." He whispered back, his voice ragged and worn.

"Wait!" She whispered, wriggling more against him, shimmying down his body.

"I warn you," he said quickly, heatedly, "if you keep doing that, you're going to find the big difference between me and your prick-less boyfriend."

She furrowed her brow in confusion, then froze.

"Don't say I didn't warn you." He growled angrily.

"Well, how was I to know you think that I'm ho--"

"Don't say it!" He spat. "And I don't." His face contorted into an angry scowl. "It's all your bloody sliding about!"

"How is this my fault?" She squeaked atop the all too hard vampire.

"Well, I didn't wake up on top of you, did I!" 

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	4. Chapter Four

:: CHAPTER FOUR ::

"What time is it?" Buffy whispered, suddenly aware of the silence outside again.

"How should I bloody know?"

"I don't know – use your vampire senses!"

"Vampire senses?" He asked, in disbelief. She glared at him in a knowing way. "You're joking, right?"

"Sniff the air and stuff…" She trailed off, angrily.

He let out a low growl and she tried to pull away from him. He was far too close. "Don't you have a watch, Slayer?" She pulled a face and wiggled her wrist. "Oh yeah, that's right, I forgot. Too proud to be of use!"

"You know, I could just as easily slide down here and let this rod go into you." He'd forgotten about the metal that was effectively aimed at him.

"Yeah, well I could easily move and let my rod go into you!" They both paused and tried to ignore what was going on. The forced closeness meant that innuendos of any kind were a no-go area.

"We need to get out of here."

"Too bloody right." He muttered under his breath. She moved to tap the wood at the headboard but as she did she felt Spike's hands grab hold of her. She looked down. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm going to get us out of here."

"By putting your bloody s-self in my face?" He growled. She looked down and realised what he meant.

"Can't you control yourself?" She spat, angrily. "Or do you want to stay here for the rest of your undead life?" He pulled her down and reached above himself, tapping the wood.

"It doesn't seem to thick." He said. "We can break through it easily."

"What about the rods?" She whispered.

"I don't know." He began to smooth his hands down the sides of the crate.

"Spike stop!" She whispered in urgency. He stopped and they remained still for a moment, her breathing falling in the air.

Suddenly, the crate was heaved into the air. They both pushed their hands firmly against the sides and glared around at what they could see. They were flipped in the air, and then they were falling.

"Oh my god! Spike!" Buffy cried in panic. "What do we do?"

"I-I…" He said, frantically trying to break lose.

They landed on something. Something had cushioned their fall to be less extreme, but they were still moving; no longer downwards, but sideways.

Spike was now on top.

He stared down at Buffy. "You alright?" He breathed, raggedly, still pushing against the sides. She coughed but nodded.

"I can't breath." She choked, pushing him back a bit. He could barely move. He shifted his legs and tried to lean to one side. "Thank you."

"We need to find out what's going on." He said, turning to look down at her. Their faces were very close now, almost touching.

"Yes." She said, flattening her hands against his chest. The contact seemed to shoot through them both. "Spike?" She questioned, huskily, but he wasn't paying attention. He was simply watching her lips, hungrily. He made a faint sound of recognition but otherwise did not move.

It was becoming too much for her. If he moved any closer she couldn't be sure whether she wanted to kill him or not.

He moved closer and brushed his lips against hers, breathing in her breath. He pulled back a little, then heard her whimper softly and felt her push herself up towards him. He lowered his head and pressed his lips full against her. To his shock, she did not recoil, but instead deepened the kiss. 

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